Damon slowly reached out his large right hand. His fingers were covered in small, white scars from years of sword fighting. He gently picked up the delicate porcelain cup by its small handle. The porcelain was very warm, but it was not burning his fingers.
He lifted the cup from the saucer. He held it in the air, right in front of his chest.
He examined it carefully. He looked at the dark liquid. He watched the steam rise. He gently swirled the tea inside the cup. It moved normally. He brought the edge of the cup close to his nose. He sniffed it carefully. It smelled exactly like normal black tea. There was no smell of strange magic, and there was no smell of poison or salt.
Camilla sat across the table, watching his every move. She kept her sweet smile on her face, but her eyes were glued to his lips. She was waiting for the magic to happen.
When Damon was absolutely sure the tea was completely safe for consumption, he stopped swirling the cup.
